


an only child of the universe

by haikquu



Series: phools {klance} [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Keiths pov, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 06:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14075055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haikquu/pseuds/haikquu
Summary: Keith was a quiet, brooding florist, and he was okay with that. He had never really like loud or boisterous, preferred instead to work diligently in solitude and just get his day over and done with, and that had just been the way his life worked. He’d gotten used to it, found comfort in his mundane routine.However, it seemed the universe had other plans.





	an only child of the universe

**Author's Note:**

> this was kind of fuelled by my biology revision.... unit 9 plants i loathe thee.
> 
> this is my first klance work! i started it a while ago (so long ago that ao3 deleted the draft lol) but was never fully happy w it. but then decided 2 say fuck it and post it anyways so enjoy lol. im a child w bad english so pls be nice. also bc i live in Not America voltron isnt on netflix and i havent watched s5 yet so _NO spoilers_ pls thank u. 
> 
> to summarise this part w quotes from my friends as they beta'd this:  
> steph: ??? this is discrimination against non biology students  
> saima: Cute :-) I hate biology :-)

Ever since Keith could remember, his days had revolved around the flower shop. It was as if since he could walk, he’d been scurrying around the little corridors and corners of the shop, and before even that, crawling under large stands and shelves decked with pots and overspilling flora.

The air was thick with the earthy scent from a few too many plants squeezed into a much too small space, over-saturating the air with their various aromas. The place, though small, was brilliantly lit by an alcove, like a battery charging the flora during the day. Keith had distinct memories with almost all of them; he’d been in this shop his entire life, after all. He could recall almost _perfectly_ the day he had potted the gardenia runner in the second aisle’s top shelf, or where he’d placed the petunias gifted by the old lady who’d been visiting the shop since before Keith was even born.

Since he could talk he’d been learning names -- not of people, but of the little creatures that lined the walls of the shop. Over the years he’d come to know nearly everything about them; he’d grown up with them, and some of the plants even extended his lifespan. From around the age of ten, he’d had most of their nomenclature down too. It used to make his mother smile hearing his butchered pronunciation of _‘Helianthus’_ , but now for Keith it was just a burden. The shop tended to stock the same selection of species, and a few special ones over the years from his mother’s inclination to experiment.  

This shop was filled with her, fragments of her life and essence scattered around like pieces of a puzzle that sparked violent, pounding memories to resurface.

The air was thick and _nauseating_ , the odours muggy and suffocating. He hated the little flower shop. The colours were sharp and sickly, the scents tangled and constricting. The walls were a tired shade of off white and the rusting metal of the shelves was always ready to bite at him. Everything in the shop seemed geared against him, vehement.

It was better here in the backroom, it was more his space. It was a small room with a few rectangular windows overlooking nothing special but that allowed enough light in for Keith to study through his early mornings. It also doubles as a storage room, scattered tiles and bricks, pots both full and fragments lying around if the dark wooden floor. There were small cages and cultures as well, desk full of light and black cloth covered basins. Keith worked and practically lived out of this small room, ensuring in turn to separate as much of the outside from the in. He couldn't imagine why anyone would want to work here.

“So, Pidge, why would you like to work here?”

He looked back up from his clipboard at the small kid sitting opposite him. Well, not really a _kid_ , per say, they were only two years younger than him, but they were indeed quite little. Keith was by no means tall, but he was taller than Pidge and that's something he could take comfort in, he supposed. He could remember a time when it was the inverse, his first year of high school where he’d had to look up when he’d talk to the other one, the power of an extra two inches of height non-negotiable. Luckily for him, by second year his growth spurt had finally kicked in, silencing Pidge (well, as much as anyone _could_ silence Pidge).

“Well, ok, if I’m being _completely_ honest,” Pidge glanced towards their left and right (Keith couldn't fathom _why_ \- they were the only ones in the shop). They leaned in and whispered. “I just need the money and this shop is the closest to campus that’s hiring.”

It had been a while since he’d seen Pidge, the distance of their age gap and university cut deep, and it was hard to stay in touch when others things were in the way. He’d been busy with his life, both trying to balance studying and managing the shop by himself.

It was hard, he was alone and tired.

He hadn't expected Pidge to just show up like this, and neither had Pidge, he guessed, from the similar surprise on their face when they stepped into the shop. They had gone from friends to acquaintances to near strangers in only a few years. Keith didn't feel bitter, nor did he feel remorse, he just felt a little strange at having his past catch back up with him.

“You’re hired.”

“Holy shit, really? I thought I butchered that, _fuck_. Thank you! Thank you!” He bit back a smile as he saw Pidge’s eyes widen in surprise. The almost-smile quickly fell off his face as Pidge jumped up, gesturing wildly and almost knocking down a few empty pots on the side.

He tried not to smile at that. Maybe they were strangers now, but Pidge was still so refreshingly _Pidge_.

“Yeah, uh, um, just, sit back a little.” He urged, letting his shoulders relax as Pidge took the seat, still bustling a little in excitement. “It’s a flower shop, not a lab, so as long as you’re patient and willing to learn, you’ll be fine.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Pidge stood up _(again._ Keith tried to stifle his anxiety _)_ and gave him a salute. He couldn't tell if they were being genuine or mocking him (probably the latter, but still, he wasn't completely sure). “You won't regret this.”’

Keith wasn't so sure. He’d lived out the last three years completely satiated with the distance he’d made from hsi high school and the people who’d known him and his family, and he’d never wanted to turn back. Pidge, unintentionally, carried with them the weight and burden of those memories.

“You are literally the only applicant here, Pidge. This isn't a very popular workplace.” Pidge remained unbothered, still teetering a little on their seat. “It’s just a part-time job, so, uh, forgive my lack of professionalism but why are you so excited?”

“ _Professionalism._  I’m surprised you even know the meaning of that word.” Pidge teased, earning a glare in response. “Alright, alright. Well,” Pidge sighed dramatically, moving back on the seat. “Again, if I’m being _completely_ honest, I just really want to buy a new telescope for the super moon next month.”

It was strange. He hadn't had a moment like this in so long. After he moved out of high school he’d moved in the the apartment above the shop and he’d been sort of left on his own since then. He’d stopped going to uni a while back, having to depend on online courses instead to be able to manage the shop. He hadn't thought much about the past, hadn’t given himself the time to do so.

However, he still remembered one or two odd nights where they sneaked up to the roof of an apartment block, telescope and journals in hand and spent hours just gazing up at the wide expanse of the sky. They had too many night like that, alone on a strangers roof somewhere just lost in looking up. They’d sit and talk for hours about every possible thing they could think of, and when they ran out of things to say they’d just lay back, revelling in each other’s presence and their proximity to the stars.

But back then they were kids, things had changed.

Keith didn't feel like he needed this, let alone wanted this, but at the same time, Keith couldn’t help himself, and before he knew it his voice spoke up.

“What happened to your old telescope? The one you claimed that NASA had sent you but I told you that was complete _bullshit_?”

Pidge grinned, eyes lighting up in recognition. It seemed like some sort of acknowledgement on Keith’s part, the movement from ‘professional’ to mentioning their past was one Pidge knew took more effort than it seemed.

“Yeah, you were right, complete bullshit.” They winced slightly. “I, uh... bet one of my friends I could pull it apart and reassemble it perfectly. Needless to say I fucked up.”

Keith couldn't hold back his smile this time. “That is literally something only you would do.”

“Are you kidding me?! Do I have to remind you of the time you tried to, quote unquote ‘jack up’ Mr. Walker’s motorcycle?”

“Oh my god, don't remind me.” Keith groaned. “He was _furious_. I swear I almost got expelled.”

There was a moment of silence and then they both burst out in laughter, the small quiet backroom swelling up with the sound. Pidge was still so easy to talk to, _too_ easy to talk to. They were everything he remembered, tiny and so self-assured, 

“You were such an edgy teen,” Pidge managed to choke out between laughs.

“I wasn't _edgy_.”

“You’re right, you weren't edgy. It should be present tense because you still totally are.” Pidge grinned. Keith rolled his eyes in mock annoyance but he was still smiling.

This was nice. Keith hadn’t missed this, but he realised it was because he had been too busy to.

“It was nice to see you again, Keith.” Pidge added after a while, with a smaller, more hesitant smile. They had changed a bit from what Keith could remember, but in a good way.

Keith’s expression softened similarly. “It was. How’ve you been?” 

“Good, actually. I love my course! Met a lot of really cool people too.” Pidge was smiling much wider now, and Keith could tell just how much they meant what they said by the way their eyes gleamed as they talked. It made Keith feel a sort of bittersweet: happy seeing Pidge as they are now, but bitter from remembering them as they were. “Some of the guys are _total_ idiots, but it’s still fun.”

“That’s really nice to hear.” Keith said and Pidge beamed in response.

“Is there anything else I’ll need to know?” Pidge asked after a moment.

“Not really. Just like, I’ll show you how to water the plants and stuff.”

“ _Keith_ , dude, listen.” Pidge began, standing up, although they were about the same height as earlier when they were sat down. “I _have_ done a basic science degree and though I may have slept through most of botany, I still remember you need to fucking water plants.”

Keith smiled. Maybe they hadn’t changed so much after all. “We’ll contact you with all the information you need.”

“Great! So then I’ll just go now?”

“Yeah, I think that would be best.”

They both stood up from the seats and made their way out of the small back room into the main shop area. Keith tried to bite back his grimace as he was hit by the familiar muggy scent, more pungent now and suffocating.

“Pidge! There you are!”

Keith jumped at the voice, head snapping to the counter where two people were standing. Pidge seemed to know the two strangers as they had no qualms running towards them.

“Hunk! Lance! What are you guys doing here?”

Kei remained in his place by the doorway, puzzled by the unexpected intrusion. He observed as Pidge hurried over to the counter to interact with the two boys -- Hunk and Lance, as they had been called. The larger one had short brown hair tied back by a yellow bandana, and dark skin. Every part of him exuded warmth, from his bright smile geared at Pidge to his soft brown eyes and caramel wooly scarf. The other boy beside him was taller, perhaps taller than Keith. His skin was slightly lighter than the other boy’s, and his eyes were hazel. Unlike his friend, who’d moved across to hug Pidge and had already began talking with them excitedly, he held back a little, leaning against the counter, wearing a soft smile on his face as he watched them.

“Are you employed now?” The taller one teased, stepping forward to ruffle Pidge’s hair. Keith almost gasped. He didn’t know Pidge that well now, but he had know them long enough to know the death wish the tall one had called upon himself.

_Rest in peace, cute tall guy._

However, Pidge merely glared back at the boy, shoving his hand away.

Keith stood absolutely dumbfounded. He knew, from experience, that no one patronised Pidge like that and lived to tell the tale... that was until _this guy_.

“Shut the fuck up, Lance.” Pidge grumbled, causing the tall guy, _Lance_ , to smirk in response. It was almost as if Keith’s thoughts summoned Lance because he turned around in that moment, noticing Keith still at the doorway of the back room.

“Holy shit,” Lance said in awe, staring at Keith. Keith could feel the panic rising with the way the Lance’s eyes were staring into him, a million thoughts racing to his head at what Lance could be referring to. “Is that… _a mullet?_ ”

“What?” Keith managed to croak out. 

There was a moment of silence and then Pidge burst out into laughter. Hunk, seemingly more cognisant of the situation, chose to cover his mouth with both hands to stifle his vigorous giggle fit.

“I’ve never seen one in real life!” Lance, continued energetically. “How long have you had it? Were you born in the 80’s? Have you ever been to a hair parlor? Or wait -- is that what you _got done_ in a parlour-”

“Lance shut up!” Pidge whisper-shouted, or at least tried to between giggles. “That's _my boss_ …” Pidge paused for a moment, seemingly in thought. “But Keith, I had been meaning to ask you… what’s up with that?”

Keith continued standing in his place, mouth open, completely dumbfounded.

“I don’t remember your hair being _that_ long in high school, I mean you looked like a millennial back then. Sort of.”

“But you _totally_ pull it off though!” Hunk chimed in, still giggling a little.

“Yeah, you look good.” Lance added with a smirk and a wink.

“Lance -- _my_ _boss_.”

“Your _cute_ boss.”

“ _Lance-_ ”

“What the fuck?” Keith let out under his breath, dazed by the pace of their conversation. He wondered if he should leave them to argue, until he remembered that this was actually his store and he didn't have anywhere to _leave_ to. “Are they the ‘total idiots’ you mentioned?”

Pidge grinned. “Yup! It's too obvious isn't it?”

Lance scoffed in indignation. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“We should leave.” Hunk said, interrupting Pidge and Lance’s bickering.

“Yes, that's a good idea.” Pidge agreed before the group then made their way towards the door, leaving behind a still extremely puzzled Keith.

“Oh!” Lance gasped, moving in quickly to a corner of the room. Keith stepped forward slowly, apprehensive of letting the strange boy wander the shop alone. “Whoa, look at these roses! They’re so pretty! Maybe I could get them for Allura.”

“Oh, that's kinda cute.” Hunk said. 

“Also kinda dumb.” Pidge added.

“Yeah,” Hunk mused. “Super dumb. I bet she already has like 50 bouquets just from this week.”

Pidge nodded. “And at least 40 of those are probably _red fucking roses._ Give up Lance, nothing will come from it.”

“You two know _nothing_ about romance.” Lance scoffed, before turning around to Keith’s surprise and addressing him. “Yo, mullet guy, you think women like roses?”

“Its Keith.” Lance didn't look up from the roses. “And, I… guess?”

“That's honestly good enough. Ring it up for me, my good man.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Keith shook his head to try break his daze and walked forward to prepare the bouquet. He prepared it, Lance paid for it, and before he could get a grasp on what had just happened Pidge was waving as the three of them exited the shop.

He swore he heard a, _“She will be mine!”_ shouted as the door swung to a close.

Keith blinked hard a few more times before deciding it had been another very long day and turned to head back into the small room.  


* * *

 

Of the many things Keith hated about the small flower shop, the one existing exception was Shiro. He couldn't hate Shiro even if he tried, and he could recall with embarrassment many occasions in his life where he had. Teenage Keith was angsty and reckless and feared no consequences. He was also easily hurt and rarely seemed to know how to safely process that. He’d known him for almost as long as he’d known the shop, having grown up with the older boy next door.

There were things in his life that just existed without any question. For instance, his love of tea, overdependence on black in his wardrobe, and Shiro. And so naturally, when Keith’s entire world came crashing down one lonely afternoon in 5th grade, he went to the only thing that remained.

Shiro’s family had taken him in instantly and since then, the two boys had been inseparable. Not that they weren't before, but there was something about having to live together and having to live _with_ each other that allowed you to connect with and understand each other more so than before.

“Hey, Keith! Can you help me with these boxes real quick?”

“Sure!” Keith called out in response, putting aside the small orchid culture he’d been working on. The backroom had become a mess of these small glass chambers, each pull of plantlets and shoots he’d been micropropagating. Days went by quickly like this, cutting and planting and nurturing each of the little things, waiting and repeating the process restlessly. 

He stood up, patted down his apron to get rid of the loose soil (not that it actually did much - he worked in a _flower_ shop) and made his way out of the small room to the other side of the shop to follow the voice. He came out behind a large shelf of plants and his view of the shop opened, the familiar offset of oversaturated green and sickly yellow let in from the alcoves unsettling Keith. He saw Shiro standing in the doorway of the entrance, and began making his way over. His face was obscured by a pile of boxes in his arms, some tilting sightly. In fact, one in particular seemed to be moving, sliding slightly to the right.

Keith rushed forward to catch the box before it hit the ground, groaning loudly as he realised just how heavy it was.

“Nice catch!” Shiro grinned, raven black hair with horrendous icy white tips now visible over the top of the pile. It was an impulse, rebellious fashion choice that Shiro had kept for his quote unquote _brand_ , but Keith still thought it was ridiculous (not that Shiro ever looked bad, unfortunately). Keith glared back at Shiro in response. “Well, I _did_ say I needed help.”

Keith rolled his eyes in familiar exhausted type of fondness reserved for the oldest of friends. “Yeah, no shit. Where do these go?”

“Ah, yeah, to the backroom.”

Keith moved past Shiro back to the small backroom, taking large slow steps on account of the weight of the box.

“What’s in the boxes? They’re ridiculously heavy.”

“Maybe you’re just really weak.” Shiro teased, earning himself another glowering stare over the shoulder from Keith. “But, yeah, they’re full of ceramics.”

Keith opened the box and folded back the cardboard flaps, gasping at the contents. “ _Dude,_ you were about to drop these? They’re the fucking imported Japanese ceramics we only get thrice a year, do you know how bad that could’ve been?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “But it's a good thing my little brother was here to save the day!” Keith let out a yelp in protest as he felt Shiro wrap around his shoulders from behind and give him an _affectionate_ hug. “You’re my _hero~_ !”

“How do you even function by yourself as an adult, I _swear.”_

Shiro just chuckled, releasing Keith from his grip. “I could say the same to you.”

Keith didn't respond immediately, instead focusing on the slight breeze flowing in from the top wall window. Shiro had changed the tone of the conversation, likely unintentionally, but that didn’t change how Shiro’s words made Keith's mouth feel dry, his hands clammy. Most of what Shiro did was unintentional, like when he _unintentionally_ adopted three stray cats sending their parents into a fit, or _unintentionally_ came home with his hair tips bleached fucking silver, or even when he _unintentionally_ scored a scholarship to an east-side university, _unintentionally_ leaving Keith alone. Keith wouldn't admit it but it was hard by himself.

“You’re thinking too much again.” Shiro’s gentle voice snapped Keith out of his headspace, causing him to look up. Shiro gave him an all too familiar reprimanding stare, one Keith had been seeing nearly all his life. It softened something inside him, causing him to smile to himself.

“I didn’t expect you to be here today.” Keith mused after a while, looking back to the bag he was unboxing. He pulled out the packaging tissue paper, lifting each bubble-wrap clad dish slowly. He unwrapped the protective layers gradually, unveiling the shiny white glassy clay surface of the dishes, inked with thin blue lines and gold details.

“I had some free time.” Shiro shrugged nonchalantly. Keith looked up from the box to focus on Shiro, narrowing his eyes.

“Go do your real job.”

“I wanted to help!” Shiro protested. “You know I can’t just leave you here! Besides, I like it here.” Keith scoffed, returning his attention to unpacking the ceramics. They had had this conversation so many times it felt like playing a broken record, Shiro was overworked and busy and had an actual job, he didn't need to keep doing this and most of the time Keith refused to let him. This was why he’d hired Pidge and spent all of his time at the shop, to relinquish some of the burden. “And I love spending time with you.”

That made Keith pause, hand frozen around a cold ceramic saucer. “You know you don't have to do that anymore.” Shiro opened his mouth to say something in protest but Keith quickly cut him off. “I hired a part-timer, anyways.”

“Oh~ I was going to ask you how that went.”

“Yeah, it was fine,” Keith paused for a moment, thinking back to the other day. He smiled softly. “It was good. They’re inexperienced but also incredibly overqualified and a lot of fun.”

“Sounds good.” Shiro said, although he phrased it more like a question. Keith chuckled to himself as he remembered his meeting with Pidge in the week before.

“They have quite a sharp tongue.” 

“Should I be nervous?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I don't know, _should_ you?”

Shiro grinned. “Nah, I trust you.”

Keith grinned back.

“I’m gonna take these empty boxes out.” Keith nodded in response as Shiro walked out. He focused back on the pots and saucers in front of him, dusting the delicate pieces  and stacking them to the side. They were some of the most popular decorative ware they sold at the store, fine trails of blue and black on stark white backgrounds, incredibly detailed with lines of red and gold and red weaving through. They’d been selling them for years, thanks to his mother who’d sourced them decades ago on one of her travels. He could remember the day she came back from an overseas trip, dark eyes sparkling in excitement as she gushed over the pieces in her hand. His jaw clenched.

“Holy shit!” Keith heard Shiro exclaim, followed by the sound of a crash. Keith quickly abandoned his work and rushed out of the backroom, to see Shiro standing in shock, boxes dropped all around him.

“Are you okay?” He asked in concern, rushing up to his brother. It was then that he noticed the person with them.

“Keith! You didn't tell me you hired Pidge!” Shiro exclaimed, running up to mentioned Pidge as they stood near the entrance, a similar expression of pleasant surprise on their face.

Keith furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “You two know each other?”

“Yeah!” Shiro laughed, practically beaming. “Pidge is Matt’s younger - _better_ -” Pidge grinned at that. “sibling. Dude don't you remember all the stories I’d tell you of Matt’s crazy sibling?”

Keith's mouth opened in realisation as all the stories of Matt’s younger sister finally clicked into context, then turning to Pidge to gage the other properly. “But wait, how could you not know Shiro was my brother?”

“Dude, first of all, different last names, and second, you literally never talked about him.” Keith bit back a retort, knowing they were right. Shiro left for university before Keith had really befriended Pidge, and he never liked to dwell on the people that werent there anymore, whether intentional or not. He didn't look at Shiro in dread of the pitying and concerned look he was likely sporting on his face.

“Like, I knew Shiro worked at a flower shop but I didn't know this! And I knew you had an older smarter _hotter_ brother you felt overshadowed by but-”

“Okay, enough!” Keith quickly interrupting, feeling his cheeks slightly heat up in embarrassment and earning himself snickers from both Pidge and Shiro. “Don’t you both have jobs to do?”

“As your older brother, my literal job description is to tease you.” 

“Please leave my shop.”

“Alright, alright, _jeez._ I’m just kidding!”

Keith knew, but he indulged Shiro by rolling his eyes and giving him a mock glare. He hadn't seen Shiro in a while with him now working across the country, but there were moments, days like this where it felt like they’d never been apart. It was routine procedure when Shiro worked with him in the shop; they’d been doing it for so long that Keith barely registered most of his actions. Instead, everything fell naturally into place as they moved around each other.

Pidge, for all their worries and qualms, proved to fit in almost perfectly, working mostly with Shiro in the backroom as they learnt the ropes. It didn't feel as foreign as it should to Keith -- it felt too natural, with none of the awkwardness or tensions he’d expected or anticipated. He felt cheated almost, having harboured such feelings of anxieties for years in fear of an encounter like this only to find that there was nothing to worry about.

He supposed there was still time, though.

The soft chime of the bell above the door caught Keith’s attention as he walked to stand behind the counter, greeting ready on his lips until he looked at at the person and froze. 

“Mullet dude! You’re a _genius_!” Keith inwardly groaned as Lance’s familiar figure walked up to the desk, grin ready and beaming with excitement.

“Pardon?”

“She loved the flowers! Like actually, she wouldn't stop gushing over them. I am truly in awe of the power you wield, how _do_ you do it?”

Keith couldn’t make if Lance was being serious or mocking him. “Thanks?”

“Maybe your source of power is in your mullet and that's what makes you so strong.” Lance mused, hand perched on his chin thoughtfully.

“Dude, it's not a mullet-” but before Keith could further protest, Lance had already run away to the other side of the shop to admire, and potentially _destroy_ some of the other flowers.

Keith had his eyebrows furrowed in concern as he nervously observed Lance engage with the plants. He wanted to tell him to leave before he remembered that was an unreasonable thing to do and that Lance was a customer. He didn't know why but the other boy set him on edge a little. He retreated instead to another side of the shop, finding Pidge offloading some pots onto the shelves and approaching them.

“Isn't that your friend?” he question, pointing with his head to the side of the shop where Lance was still _uncomfortably_ close to the petunias.

Pidge sighed dramatically next to him. “ _Unfortunately_ , yes.”

“Why is he here again?” Keith asked in annoyance. Everytime Lance came around he would always drag Keith into some long winded argument, causing the other to lose way too much of his time. Or he would knock something over or mess up an arrangement and _add_ to Keith’s time.

“To get flowers to quote-unquote _woo_ this girl he’s been obsessing over for a while.”

“A long time crush?”

“Somewhat. He’s been obsessed with her since he saw her at Uni, a true Grecian tragedy.” Pidge said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

 “But he literally flirts with everyone in the shop. Is it not that serious?” It was true, at first when Lance would make his cheesy flirtatious comment at Keith, the latter was surprised, shocked even by his brashness. He later realised it was just Lance's personality and he pestered everyone with similar lines.

“Well… no…” Pidge scrunched up their face up in concentration trying to articulate whatever they were wrestling with. “Lance is… okay, how do I put this… he's like chaotic good.”

“What?”

“Or more of a chaotic bi?”

“....No?”” 

“He's like a Gryffindor -- wait, no, that's not that helpful either.”

“I have actually read Harry Potter, Pidge.”

“Dude when? Thats _sick_ , we should talk more about that- oh, wait! You’ll know this. I feel like his Greek god lineage is maybe Apollo? Could even be Poseidon, but maybe I just see him as a ‘Percy’.” Pidge seemed lost in thought over that, head resting on their hands as they pondered.

Keith raised an eyebrow in disbelief, unmoved by Pidge’s attempt at character analysis. “You’re not _that_ much younger than me, how am I not getting these references.”

“There’s no way you can stay up to date with anything with that hairstyle.” Pidge quipped, to which Keith huffed indignantly. “How about Avatar? He likes to say he's a firebender but we’re pretty sure his element is water.”

“I know Avatar, but I’m really not sure what this conversation is doing right now.”

Suddenly Lance appeared back around the corner, face bright and eyes gleaming. “Mullet man!”

“It’s Keith.”

Lance ignored him. “I want your best love bouquet!”

Keith looked at him quizzically. “That's... not a thing.”

“Flowers are for love, right? Just gimme a bouquet that, like, screams love. It’s very important.”

“I still don't know what that means.”

Lance groaned in exasperation. “Flowers have meanings, right? Just gimme something along the lines of ‘Hey! I think you’re really cool. I like you a lot. Maybe we can hang out...’”

“Or something.” Keith added, somewhat dumbfounded by Lance.

Lance’s jaw dropped and he stared at Keith. “Did you… just make a _vine reference_?”

“What?” Keith replied back a little shakily, consequence of Lance’s _very_ intense and _very_ uncomfortable stare.

Lance blinked in disbelief. “Holy shit, I think I love you?”

“Seconded.” Keith heard a voice - Pidge -call out from some corner of the shop.

Keith was a little weirded out.

“Dude, just look at the flower chart on the counter.”

“No.” Lance pouted ( _actually_ pouted). “I want your help! You're the only reason I’m as far as I am now.”

“Which is not that far.” Pidge’s voice echoed in again. Lance glared in their general vicinity in response.

“ _Anyways_ , your bouquet worked really well for me! She knows flower language really well apparently? I don't know - I just need you and only you to do it.”

Keith hated working at the flower shop, but that didn't change the fact that he _did_ work at the flower shop. In fact, he owned the shop. And that meant he had to make money.

“Alright, what are you in the mood for?”

“Passion, longing, _devotion._ ”

Keith eyed the boy in front of him, unamused, but he remembered this was sort of his job.

“We have a flower chart with some popular flowers and their meanings,” Keith walked over to behind the counter and pulled out a few large brown papers, each with scrawly writing and faded colour illustrations. “They are a bit old because we’ve had them for years, but they have a lot of different flowers and still work well.”

Lance smiled widely at that. “Thank you!” he exclaimed, rushing over to the counter to scan the sheets intensely, eyes almost scrutinising every word. Keith didn’t want to leave him alone in case he broke something (not that he cared if something broke, just that the clean up would be _disastrous_ ) so he observed Lance from a slight distance, eyebrows furrowed as he watched. It was somewhat akin to trying to sketch a hurricane, Lance was all quick moments fast dialogue and vividness that Keith didn't really understand and couldn't pin down.

He wondered where Pidge found people like this. The other boy, Hunk, though somewhat more subdued seemed just as… _intense_ as the other two.

“Give me the, uh… Jonquil.” Lance spoke up after a few minutes.

“That's… a strange request.” Keith mused, although he supposed he should’ve expected it after literally handing the kid an encyclopedia of niche flower language.

“It says ‘desire for affection, comma, returned’.” Lance pointed at it forcefully, causing Keith to wince slightly. “That is what I want.”

Keith sighed, before trying to squeeze out an amiable smile. “Of course, I’ll make you a bouquet right away.”

Keith went around the shop to familiar shelves and trays and carried out the routine. He’d been doing it for so often it was almost thoughtless to him now, the once carefully thought out assembly now more robust and mechanical. He could remember a time when he’d ponder over each selection, deliberate over each floret and tendril, the tissue paper and the ribbon. But now he just acted out the routine, played through his part.

He handed the bouquet to Lance who had been waiting patiently, silently actually, looking over a few of the window display plants. “Ah, mullet man, you work some real magic here.”

“Keith.”

Lance simply winked before paying and exiting the shop.

* * *

 

 

The end of the day was the strangest time for Keith. It was calming, knowing that he’d be alone now, no more customers or deliveries or anything he’d have to be present to handle. It was the time of the day when he could just tune out, not think or consciously exist but just be. 

Keith mopped down the last corners of the shop he’d missed, taking a bit longer than necessary but enjoying the strange sense of serenity he got in the night. The night made the colours less sharp and the open windows eased some of the cloying vapours.

“I’ll see you later then, right?” Keith looked up quickly across the shop to see Shiro standing by the entrance looking at him expectantly. He was finishing putting on his long trench coat, and backpack, all whilst still staring Keith down. Keith was constantly amazed by how Shiro managed to be both the _dorkiest_ and most intimidating person he knew.

“Oh, yeah, for sure.” Keith quickly stuttered out. “How long are you in town for?”

“Did I not tell you?” Shiro turned around, looking straight at Keith. “I’m staying with a friend here for a while. My job moved me nearby for a while, so I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other!”

“No, no you did _not_ tell me that.” Keith dropped what he was holding, standing up to walk towards Shiro. He looked at the older boy carefully, eyeing him for any signs of deception, before raising a fist and punching him in the stomach, hard. “How could you not tell me something like that?!”

Shiro winced, but he didn't protest, likely because he understood that he deserved it. “I thought I did?” He added sheepishly.

Keith rolled his eyes. “Well, you didn’t, you _asshole_.” He looked down. “You could’ve stayed with me.” Keith didn’t say the entirety of what he meant, but he didn't need to.

Shiro smiled sympathetically. “I know, and believe me, I would've loved to but…”

Shiro didn’t need to say much either for Keith to understand. Keith smiled slyly. “Mmm, your girlfriend lives nearby, doesn't she?”

Shiro’s eyes widened like a deer in headlights. “Please don’t tell Mum and Dad, they will _kill_ me.”

“Shiro, you’re like almost 30.”

“Shut up! I’m in my mid-twenties and you _know_ how they are.” Shiro shivered slightly. “I told them I was staying with you… please cover for me?”

Keith pretended to deliberate over it, enjoying Shiro's slightly frazzled and desperate expression before he saved in. “Fine, I’ll cover for you.” Shiro visibly straightened up, looking relieved. “You know it would’ve been smart to have told me this in advance? Imagine if they’d called me an hour ago.”

“Yeah... good thing I have an _amazing_ little brother who's super smart and cool and great at covering for me!”

Keith hit him again, softly. “Get lost, you’re gonna miss your bus.”

A lot of Keith’s past seemed to be culminating together. Shiro would be back in town, Pidge was back in his life. He wasn't sure what the catalyst was, but this week seemed to be an important one for change.

“Great, see you then.” Shiro smiled and turned as if to leave through the doorway before stopping abruptly. “Hey Keith, you should put some music on in here or something.” Keith gave him a puzzled look in response. “When it’s quiet, your thoughts get too loud.”

With that Shiro flashed him one last cheeky grin before darting out through the door. Keith stood there for a moment as the glass came back to a close before sighing deeply and turning around to finish his packing up. It was the end of the day, and now he had little else to do but pack up and go home. He went around the store doing his last minute routine checks before shutting the lights and locking the door.

He walked into the backroom locking the door behind him. Thankfully the one advantage of owning a flower shop was being able to get the apartment above it for super cheap. There was a small door in the backroom that led up to his place, only a single staircase isolating him from his home and this place. It was both an easy escape if he ever needed it and a constant stomach-churning reminder of what lay below.

He unlocked his apartment door and breathed out a sigh of relief as he stepped in, finally being able to distance himself from the place below. He looked around his place, it was dark but the curtains had been left undrawn allowing soft light in and highlighting some of the furniture in the place. There wasn't much; Keith didn't need let alone want a lot of things. He decided the moonlight was enough for him to navigate and left his lights off, making his way to the bathroom. 

Luckily he’d remembered to pay his bills this month, allowing him to brush his teeth comfortably. He winced as he remembered the lecture he’d gotten from Shiro the last time he didn't, and the horrid memory of trying to substitute water in his daily night routine… he knew he brought it on himself thought. He personally didn't see what the problem was -- all he did in his apartment was sleep, it wasn't like he needed the lights on for that, however, he had changed his mind about the water bill since the incident.

But as was a part of the routine Keith had familiarised himself with all their childhood, to Shiro he always digressed.

He got into bed quickly, too tired to think of eating or doing anything that required active engagement. He did however let himself think, running through the events of the past day and week and month.

He couldn't pinpoint the origin, but _something_ had changed, like the primary offset in a series of reactions, building up towards something. Shiro was back in town, which he hadn't been for years. In addition to that, _Pidge_ was with him too, another figure of his past Keith had almost completely lost touch with. A switch in tone, where all these separate moments in his life, defining times in his past were beginning to change course, culminating and crashing into each other.

Keith hadn't been one to believe in the universe and all its mysticities, but in light of recent events, everything seemed _too_ right. Something was being planned, deliberated in the background, a decision process Keith couldn't see or monitor.

He couldn't help but think of the new people he’d met too, people like Lance and Hunk. Keith’s life had changed drastically in the last few weeks just by having someone new to talk to every so often, something he’d rarely had previously.

Keith didn't believe in the powers of the universe, and he especially didn't believe if it had any sentence it would have any interest in him, but he couldn't help but be a bit puzzled by it all, unwillingly fixated in what was to come.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been nice, _really_ nice, to be around Pidge over the last few weeks. Keith hadn't realised what he’d missed out on, having been away from it for so long. The shop felt less suffocating, less _draining,_ having someone around so often to talk to. Keith hadn’t talked to Pidge in years, but somehow the other made it seem like no time had passed at all. There was an easy back-and-forth, a familiar comfort. However, Pidge seemed to be a package deal with some unwanted extras.

“But yellow isn't _sexy_.”

Keith groaned audibly at that, head lowered in his hands as the boy across him went off again. This was the third time this week alone that the boy had come into the shop, with the sole purpose of pestering Keith. It had been fine initially, Lance just came around to keep Pidge company (probably because he was a loser without any real hobbies, or so Keith liked to think), and stayed with them, only occasionally asking Keith about a flower type or meaning that Pidge couldn't answer. He’d usually buy a flower by the end of it too, which Keith actually like because it was good business.

But that was also three weeks ago.

“No _shit_ . What kind of flower is even sexy? What does that _mean_?”

Lance rolled his eyes, much to Keith’s annoyance. He didn't know how but more recently Lance had gravitated over from being an over-eager customer to a right pain in his ass, questioning, _arguing_ , with nearly everything Keith said. He’d hang over him as he went about his normal duties around the shop, grinning and teasing and just pestering.

All of this very much furthered Keith's chagrin, which in turn seemed to further Lance’s delight.

“I don’t know? Like, mistletoe?”

“Mistletoe turns you on?” Keith shot back, eyebrow raised in incredulity. Lance looked like he was about to say something in response, before thinking the better of it and closing his mouth, a slight flush of scarlet to his cheeks. This was another thing Keith had learnt about Lance over the past few weeks; he did the most ridiculous things and always ended up embarrassing himself, but he never seemed to regret or learn from his actions. Or at least, he didn't seem to want to. “Dude, just look at the flower chart.”

“At least mistletoe is better than daisies.” Lance grumbled, grabbing the flower chart from the side of the counter.

“ _Daffodils._ ” Keith clenched out, gritting his teeth. He sighed as Lance just gave a nonchalant shrug. “Look, I’m telling you, for your purposes daffodils are perfect.”

There was a pause and sound of ruffling paper as Lance flicked through the chart before letting out an incredulous shout.

“ _Unrequited love?”_ Lance scoffed.

“Yeah, perfect.” Keith retorted, earning himself a glare from Lance in response. Lance resumed scanning through the chart before landing on something.

“Ooh, what about palm leaves?”

“Palm leaves.” Keith repeated, stunned in disbelief. “You think palm leaves are the epitome of romance?”

“They represent ‘victory, success and _triumph’_.” 

Keith blinked once, hard. “Lance, you’re an idiot.”

Lance seemed unbothered. “I prefer the term ‘low-cost entertainment’.”

“Low-quality too.”

“Hey!”

“Lance, just give up.” Pidge called out, interrupting Lance, shuffling past them at the counter with a few boxes in hand. “She’s too good for you! Just drop it.” They then disappeared around one of the stands, small figure lost amongst various branches.

Lance flopped back onto the country, arms spread in what Keith could only label as despair.

“Dude, that’s my counter, not a bed.”

“I am condemned to a life of suffering.” Lance deliberated, ignoring Keith entirely and closing his eyes. “This is where I depart.”

“No, Lance, you’re great!” Keith turned in surprise to see Hunk sat in the corner near the counter, laptop in hand. _Since when had his shop become a library?_ “She’s just… not interested… in you. Maybe you should just move on?”

“Why do you guys hate _romance_?” Lance sighed, rolling over on the counter. Keith hurried to the side to get away from the counter as Lance knocked over pens and other stationary in his tantrum. “Fuck you guys, I’m gonna find someone who understands.” He got up, moving to sit on the side of the counter, pulling out his phone.

“You know, you could _help_ me clean up the mess you just made-” Lance cut off his sentence with a loud shush, bringing his phone close to his mouth.

“Hey Siri: what’ll get cute out-of-my-league girl to date me”

_“Searching the internet for: ‘Hey Siri: what’ll get cute out of my leg grill to date me?’_ ”

Keith heard a sharp bark of laughter from the other side of the shop.

“ _Leg grill!_ ” He heard Pidge’s voice choke out between laughs, followed by what sounded like a small crash. “Uh, everything's fine!”

_Oh my god,_ Keith thought to himself. _How did I get here?_ When Keith hired Pidge, he hadn't really thought it through, not that there was anything wrong with Pidge, just that maybe he should’ve done a background check. Such a check could have warned his about Pidge’s _friends_ , or whatever Lance and Hunk were.

Okay, that was a lie, Keith loved Hunk, he was so kind but also incredibly quick-witted, brilliant at somehow keeping both Lance and Pidge in place. Keith was awestruck by his prowess, Hunk sported this duality where he was both incredibly intimidating and incredibly approachable, sort of like Shiro but also incredibly different. It was Lance that Keith was unsure about. Or actually, Keith was unsure about all of them, especially now that his shop was becoming some sort of group hangout.

“I cant believe even _Siri_ won't help me. I am truly alone in this world.”

“This is what you get for being a pawn of capitalism.” Hunk pitched in, eyes still deeply focused on his book.  Lance simply sighed dramatically, before flopping back down on the counter.

Keith narrowed his eyes. “No, no, _no_ . I will _not_ have you moping around my shop any longer. There are only so many pens I will risk you breaking before I draw the line.”

If Lance heard him, he didn't react, still laying down on the counter letting out a sigh ever so often. Keith huffed softly, arms crossed, observing the boy who seemed incredibly adamant on pestering Keith to know end. He could imagine it’d be an incredibly incriminating scene for anyone to walk into the shop at this moment, seeing unoccupied university students loitering around on floors and countertops.

This had become a somewhat familiar routine for Keith, dealing with Lance and his dramaticisms. It was a little strange, as Keith had never been around someone like that before, someone so childish and confident, so self-assured and kind of dramatic. It was tiring, but also a little fascinating, akin to a _car crash_ ; horrifying, but he couldn't seem to be able to look away.

Keith sighed deeply before turning away from Lance to indulge the boy’s will. He took familiar steps around the shop, reaching out to the stems and buds he’d frequently gathered before, a routine almost before returning to the counter. He pulled out the pink tissue paper, carefully enveloping and tying the stems. He didn't know why he entertained Lance like this so often, every time the other would pull one of his theatrics, but Keith did.

“Here. Red roses, lilies, carnations and snapdragons.”

Lance didn't get up; instead, he simply pulled out the flower chart and scanned through it. After a few moments he jolted upright, staring at Keith and then moving his gaze down to the bouquet in hand. Lance let out a low whistle as he examined the bouquet in Keiths hands. “That's a sweet love-bouquet.”

“Stop calling it that.”

“It’s downright _sexy-_ ”

“Please buy it and leave.”

Lance simply grinned in response, doing exactly that.

 

* * *

 

Keith hoped that would be that and he could resume his previous routine, but _as always_ , Lance came back the next day. Instead of being outright annoyed, Keith decided to shake things up this time and instead behave more tolerantly with the other boy, after all, he was a customer (and Shiro _may_ or may not have given his a lecture about customer service after seeing him arguing with Lance). Keith didn't like the flower shop, but he did like Shiro, so motive aside he would try to actually do his job. 

“Good afternoon.” Keith said politely, nodding at the other boy. This gesture didn't go unnoticed as Lance raised an eyebrow in surprise at Keith.

“Being polite today, are we, mullet man?” he teased, winking at Keith. Keith had to fight every urge in him to provide a snarky retort back.

“You seem in a good mood today, did she like the flowers?”

Lance beamed at that. “Yeah! She was talking about them a lot so I think she did!”

Keith didn't want to smile at that, but he did, just a little. “What did she say when you handed it to her?”

Lance froze at that and winced. “Oh uh… I actually didn't.” Keith looked at him quizzically in response, causing Lance to sigh deeply. “She's just... too scary…”

Keith almost let out a laugh at that. It was so strange seeing the brash, self-confident Lance he’d come to know over the past few weeks look so sheepish and almost _nervous_. It was a startling contrast, to see the same boy who’d recklessly tease and set Keith off with absolutely no courtesy or forethought, now look so small and hesitant.

“I just, uh… left it on her desk.”

All Keith could say in response was “Wow.”

“She liked them a lot though! I overheard her gushing over them with her friends!” Keith looked back at him, unimpressed. “Okay, I get it, I’m pathetic, what do I do!”

Keith tried to look more serious as he saw just how genuinely distraught Lance seemed to be. “Ah, okay, um, why dont u try giving it to her in person at least?”

“I don't know…” Lance trailed off, looking anxious. “What if she hates me?”

“Lance, you’re extremely annoying, yes, but I highly doubt anyone would hate you.” Lance seemed to perk up a little at that. “Not for giving them flowers, at least.” He still seemed unconvinced so Keith, without knowing why, decided to take another step forward. “Here, I’ll help you make another… _love bouquet_.” 

Lance’s jaw almost dropped to the ground in surprise, his eyes wide. “You-”

“Yeah, yeah, _I know_.” Keith cut him off quickly, not wanting to linger on it more than he had to. “Just… try giving it to her in person this time.”

Lance looked at him for a moment, almost as though he was searching for something in Keith’s expression. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it because a moment later he broke out into his signature grin.

“Work your magic, mullet man.”

 

* * *

 

“She really liked it. Thank you, Keith.” Lance flashed him a smile and for some reason it felt different than before. Lance had grinned and smiled many times sure, but none of them had felt this gentle. He’d never seen Lance so hesitant before, and even thought Keith barely knew him he was somewhat startled by how different it was, how soft, and genuine this smile felt and how strangely well it suited his face. Keith didn't know why but suddenly he felt frozen in his steps like everything tunnel visioned. He shook his head slightly to snap out of it. 

“What did you say to her?”

“Ah, I, uh…” Lance began, raising his arm to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. “I didn't actually _confess_ or anything. I said my mom got them for her?” Lance phrased it as a question and shrugged, even more sheepish and almost guilty than before.

“Your… mother?” Keith asked in astonishment.

A faint blush made its way to Lances cheeks. “My mother knows her! She interned at my mom’s company for a while!” Keith didn't respond. “I promise it's not as lame as it sounds!” Lance quickly added, his blush darkening.

Keith frowned.

“I… I just panicked, okay?”

Keith didn't want to get invested in this kid, like, he _really_ didn't, but Lance had been coming around nearly everyday and talking way too much about his life and obsessions and his infatuations and his classes and _gosh_ Keith knew too much by now. He knew way more than he needed to, let alone wanted to, and he didn't want to know anymore.

But because also knew a lot about the boy in front of him now, began to understand both his performances and what happened behind the stage. 

“I don't mean to intrude,” Keith slowly began. “especially because I barely know you, but I think, if you like her as much as you’ve been saying you do, you should at least give it a fair shot.” His voice was low as he warily observed Lance for any indication that he might be overstepping. When the other boy did not show any signs of such, Keith continued. “And if she’s not interested, then you should let it rest there, because you can't force someone to like you but also you’ll be free to find someone who actually does -- or will.”

Lance didn't speak for a few moments, and in those few moments, Keith’s thoughts raced around like a hurricane. _Holy shit, did I overstep what if he thinks I'm a jerk was that too cliché or insensitive what if he finds it insulting maybe I touched a nerve holy shit why did I do that?_

But then Lance hummed thoughtfully, snapping Keith’s head up. “You know, you’d make a great boyfriend if you weren't like 70.”

“Oh my god, _shut up_.”

 

* * *

 

_There were footsteps, shrill shrieks of joy and a loud bang as the door was pushed open. Keith ran inside, immediately stopping to take in the familiar scent, the overpowering sweetness and tang on his tongue as he breathed in, the multitude of flora filling the air with their scents._  

_He grinned; he could barely contain his excitement to be back to the shop. School was always tough on him because it meant that he had to be away from here for so long._

_“Eomma! I’m back!” He shouted out, his high-pitched voice echoing throughout the room. He ran past shelves lines with ferns, overspilling green brushing against his hair as he ran under long stands and racks to get to the backroom._

_He rounded the corner, stepping forward into the doorway, wide-eyed and cheeks slightly flushed._

_“Eomma!”_

_There was a haze in the air, something golden tilted, like a faint filter that softened everything. She looked so at home in this room, soft yellows and orange lighting up her hair, her pale skin, the light hitting the corners and edges of the room and somehow blurring them._

_She turned around Keith lived in a place where he was surrounded by nature’s finest, each plant the epitome of precision and beauty. Their colours were vivid, full of life and joy, a pure product of the earth itself, but if you were to ask him in that moment what in the shop was the most beautiful, he wouldn't hesitate at choosing her._

_“Oh, Keith-ah! You’re back so soon.” She turned and it was like time stopped -- everything froze in on her. Something changed in that moment, the gold light faded away, replaced by an icy green tinged blue. Her smile warped, stretching outwards of the frame, the picture somehow static, flickering. She was by no means tall but in that moment it felt like she towered over him, an impassive force, distance and unattainable._

_Keith felt afraid; it felt like he was losing her, but then she reached out for him with a hand and everything snapped back into place, repeated_

_Keith didn't linger on it. He didn't like the colour blue much anyways._

" _What are you working on, Eomma?” He asked, excitement resumed._

_She chuckled softly, pulling him towards the table she was sat at._

_"Take a look.”_

_He got on his tiptoes and peered over onto the table to see a small tray of soil and water, and various scattered stems around the deskspace. In the center of the soil were two isolated stalks, positioned awkwardly._  

_“... What is it?”_

_“I’m working on something special, hybridising.” Keith tried to sound out the word after she said it, his childish mouth struggling to remember and reform the word. She noticed and smiled, her gentle chiming laugh ringing through the air like the bell on their shop’s door. “Hy-brid. Its when you make something new out of some other things, so it’s still a bit like what it was made from but also its own individual thing.”_

_Keith nodded ardently in understanding, although he didn't really understand. “So kinda like I’m a hybrid of you and Appa?”_

_Maybe if Keith had been less blindsided by her laugh and the dampening filter in the air, he would’ve noticed the way her smile faltered slightly._

_“Mmm, I suppose you are. You can name it if you like.”_

_Keith paused for a moment, small face scrunched up in intense concentration. His mother waited patiently, gaze encouraging as she indulged him. She was always good at that._

_“Red!” He suddenly blurted out._

_“Red?” She repeated in amused surprise. “Why ‘red’? The plant is green.”_

_“I like the colour red.” Keith shrugged._

_His mother simply smiled and shook her head fondly._

_“Red it is, then.”_  

“Hey Keith- _Keith!_ Careful!” A voice snapped Keith out of his haze just in time to move out of the way before a pot came crashing down mere inches from where his feet were. “Holy shit, _Keith_. That was so close, you could’ve really gotten hurt.”

Keith’s eyes focused in on the dark brown and beige of the kilned? clay now shattered, large fragments and fine dust alike on the floor. He’d been reaching out for a particular plant, a succulent that hadn't been doing so well. He knew the routine by now, was ready to isolate it and nourish it back to health, but looking at it again on the floor, stems and bristles all tangles and crushed, he supposed there was no point.

“Keith, you look kind of pale. Have you eaten anything at all today?”

Keith shifted around uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like his skin was too tight. “No… but it's fine, my shift’s over now so I’ll go eat.”

 “ _Keith_.” Shiro reprimanded, giving Keith a pointed stare which he couldn't find it in himself to meet. Shiro frowned and gave him a look, that kind of patronising older brother look he’d perfected over the years that stopped Keith on his feet. “Keith, you know I can't be around all the time to look after you.”

Keith tried to shrug off the intensity of his stare, not wanting to dwell on the topic further. “It’s okay. Besides, Pidge is here now.” Shiro still looked unconvinced and it only served to further Keith’s anxiousness. “I won't be completely alone.” He teased half-heartedly.

“Pidge is a _child_.”

Keith knew Shiro meant well, he always did, but something about the familiar topic always made Keith snap. He could feel the annoyance rising inside of him, a thick recoil or resentment churning in his stomach. He tried to bite back the menace in his words as he spoke, choosing monotone over the raw anger that was building inside of him.

“They’re first band in their science degree, they’re not stupid.”

“Pidge is incredibly smart, yes, but they’re just here to work part-time, not _mother_ you. You need to look after yourself, Keith.”

“I know.” He clenched out through his teeth. This wasn't a fight worth having, it was the same old push and pull, Shiro’s _criticisms_ that Keith would accept without a word and then shelve away and ignore.

He took a deep breath and turned away, instead walking to the backroom to pull out a dustpan from behind the door, refusing to meet Shiro’s eyes as he walked back to the mess. He bent down and began sweeping up the shards, chucking in the leftovers of the plant as he did.

“No, Keith, wait!” Shiro exclaimed suddenly, rushing over to him. “We can still probably save that.”

“It fell from the second shelf. There's no point,” he muttered, stepping back away from Shiro who was somewhat haphazardly trying to pick up the pieces from the floor. It was ludicrous, this _personality_ type of Shiro’s, his puerile desire to save and preserve.

Keith didn't care about the plants, he didn't care about the shop. He was willing to let it burn.

“We can at least try. It's one of the oldest plants here.” Shiro stopped his sentence short, but Keith already knew what he was going to say. _‘Your mother…’_

Keith clenched his jaw, hard. “ _You_ can try.” he dusted off the soil from his apron, turning away from Shiro who was still crouched on the floor. “I don't see the point of wasting my time.” He spoke coldly, his voice low. It was a practiced indifference; only an expert would notice the slight shiver of his voice, the fragile clasp on his barely contained anger.

Shiro sighed in resignation, staying silent as Keith walked away. Keith heard the rustle of shards as Shiro was likely still fussing over the thing. He scoffed to himself, walking behind the main counter and resting his elbows on the surface. Shiro had always had more sentiment, misplaced attachment to the place than he did.

The door chimed. Keith slowly lifted his head up, trying to quickly shake up the exhaustion that had come over him. His eyes widened slightly in surprise as he noticed the person in front of him.

“Mullet man! I need you to work your magic again!" 

Lances visits to the shop had become more frequent, almost anticipated by Keith. It was the same each time: he’d come in with some ludacris demand for _romance_ and _passion_ , nitpick Keith’s every recommendation _(“But will that get her to date me? “Lance, you’d need much more than a flower for that.”)_ , but ended up buying the plant anyways.

It seemed to work out for him though, because he’d always return in the next few days.

“It’s Keith. Second, I don't have a mullet and third, that makes me sound like some pathetic superhero from the 60’s, please don’t.” Keith snapped, although where once his voice would’ve been cold speaking to the other boy, it now just help exasperation at his antics.

Lance grinned. “Your mullet _is_ from the 60’s.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure they were predominant in the 80’s and also it’s _not a mullet_!” Keith sighed, realising the other boy was completely unbothered by his well-meaning corrections. “Pidge isn't here, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I’m actually here for you. Pidge sucks at this stuff, probably because they don’t have the same magical mullet.”

Keith bit back a retort, deciding to give in to the other boy for once. “What can I help you with?”

“I did some research this time! I want chrysanthemums.”

Keith raised an eyebrow in amusement. “I don't think I’ve had any ever come in here and just ask for chrysanthemums. They’re in the daisy family, you know.”

“Just shut up and sell me some flowers.”  Lance snapped, but with a wide smile. Keith grinned walking over to the side of the shop before turning back towards Lance.

“Actually, I don't think I have any ready. I’ll have to check on the ones in the back, give me a quick minute.”

Keith walked away, making his way along quickly to the backroom. Lance, as expected, followed him without being asked or told.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Lance guffawed as his eyes scanned the room. “What are those?”

Keith merely chuckled, walking over to the cloth covered dishes Lance was staring at. This side of the room had a large stand laden with such dishes, large capsules of plants covered in thick dark black clothes on each shelf.

“They’re the chrysanthemums. They’re short-day plants.”

Keith looked across the room at the large clock on the wall, humming to himself thoughtfully. “It’s been about 15 hours so we can check on them.”

“That- that still doesn't make any sense to me.” Lance said sheepishly.

“Its photoperiodism: the flowering of these plants depends on hours of dark, not light. Basically, because chrysanthemums need longer durations of uninterrupted darkness, which they don't get in the summer, I have to artificially recreate the situation.”

Lance opened his mouth in a slight ‘o’, eyes wide.

“Mmm, I don’t think they’re ready for you yet, unfortunately.”

“Why do you say that?” Lance said quizzically, with a slight pout.

“None of them have coloured buds yet so I still need to cover them everyday for a while.” Keith sighed, covered the dish back up and let it resume its place on the shelf. “Phytochrome far-red in an inhibitor, and it’s produced more in the sunlight for short-day plants so, back in the darkness they go.”

“Wow,” Lance commented, eyes still scanning over the racks of cloth laden plants, akin to a small black army in their magnitude and array. “I didn't know being a florist was so science-y.”

Keith scoffed. “What did you think it was?”

“I don't know, I guess I just thought it was, like… picking flowers at the right time.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “It’s an industry Lance, what you’re seeing right here is peak capitalism.”

“Now you just sound like Pidge!”

Keith scoffed indignantly. “I’m older! Why does no one say Pidge sounds like _me_?”

“Hating capitalism is literally Pidge’s _brand_. You’re gonna have to diversify yourself a little bit, buddy.”

Keith glowered and Lance grinned widely. There was a moments silence in which Keith allowed his glower to falter, but Lance’s wide smile still withheld, his eyes almost gleaming as he held Keith’s gaze.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Keith questioned, turning away slightly to hide from Lance’s gaze. “It’s creepy.”

“No- I didn't mean it like that, I just,” Lance scrunched up his face . “You’re really knowledgeable and seem to really enjoy all this plant stuff. How'd you end up here?”

Keith didn't respond for a moment, his earlier smile completely void.

“Don't get me wrong -- I think it's really cool!” Lance quickly added. Looking at his face, Keith couldn't find it in himself to be angry. There was something so genuine about Lance, even when he was being a dick.“It's still pretty epic.”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, some florists have really cool light setups and they basically play around with red light, because natural sunlight has a lot of red light and its specific wavelength, which is the f-”

“Dude, its chill, you don't have to explain it to me. I actually major in Physics.”

For some reason, that caught Keith a little off guard. He didn't know why but he had never really pictured the guy as anything so… _serious…_ or studious. Lance with his loud, reckless energy had always felt sort of childish to Keith. It was awful, but he’d never thought of what he studied, not really considering what he liked and studied and wanted to pursue, never really giving him that kind of thought. He felt a sickening churn of guilt for stereotyping the other so harshly.

If Lance noticed Keith’s turmoil he didn't comment on it, still looking on cheerily.

“You florists always seem so calm and sophisticated, I didn’t know you were out here blazing flowers up every weeknight.”

Keith choked on a laugh, startled by the sheer ridiculousness of the other boy. “I do not _blaze up_ my flowers!”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Lance looked to both his sides before leading in. “You know, florists do deal with quiet a few weeds.”

“A weed? I’m calling the police.” Keith said without much thought, then feeling a strange sense of triumph when he saw Lance’s eyes light up in recognition.

“I knew it! You are _such_ a dork!” Lance said excitedly, suddenly looking down at his pockets and pulling his phone out. “Dude, you _have_ to see my vine compilation.”

Keith had a grin that mirrored Lance’s. In the moment he was ready to say yes, ready to just carry on with the light-hearted and _fun_ conversation. Keith could count the number of people he actually talked to on a daily basis on one hand, and that meant that there wasn't much variance of conversation in his life.

Then Pidge came back, bringing with them Hunk and Lance. Keith didn't think he’d ever laughed so much in his life before. Albeit there were many days where the presence of the three served as more of a burden than anything else, overall his time at the shop with the three of them around was so much _brighter_.

He thought about that for a while. Keith was a quiet, brooding florist, and he was okay with that. He had never really like loud or boisterous, preferred instead to work diligently in solitude and just get his day over and done with, and that had just been the way his life worked. He’d gotten used to it, found comfort in his mundane routine. Though he appreciated the three of them, they represented something foreign and unwanted, a disturbance to Keith’s careful regimen. Besides, he had work to do, he wasn't here on his free time like Lance always seemed to be.

But then he looked up at Lance’s bright, expectant gaze and something inside him caved.

“I’ll get my headphone splitter.” Keith sighed, biting back a smile as he saw Lance do a fist-pump in triumph.

“Hell yeah, dude, this is the best thing you’ll ever see _promise._ ”

Lance moved over a little so Keith could stand beside him, holding his phone in one hand between them. 

It wasn’t the _‘best thing you’ll ever see’_ as the other boy had promised, but Keith still found himself laughing along, one video leading to another and the another, both boys hiding in a corner behind the counter giggling away.

If anyone noticed, they didn’t disturb them.

It was strange, Keith realised, the situation he was in. Something about Lance had made him almost completely forget about being upset, the other boy’s silly remarks and taunts distracting him from the fierce sentiment that had overtaken him earlier. He’d never realised before how easy it was to affect.

 

* * *

 

 

The bell chimed. Keith’s stomach clenched as he realised he didn't even have to turn to know who it was. 

The shop had been empty for so long that initially Keith always jumped when he heard the door chime, the unfamiliarity of it sending chills down his spine. For a sales worker, he wasn't the most personable of all people, his bluntness often getting in the way. It made him hyperaware, on edge and anxious every time a customer came in because he couldn't screw up.

However, recently all the door chimes had been for one single person, and for some reason, Keith didn't feel the same dread at greeting them.

“You look happy.” Keith said sarcastically, taking a few steps away from the shelf he was currently. Lance responded by sighed dramatically, coming forward to lean against the counter in dejection.

“She didn't like the flowers.” He mumbled glumly, looking down at the marble counter-top.

“She didn’t like the hawthorns? But they’re so pretty! Is she even human?”

“You know what? I actually have no idea. I’m convinced she’s like a celestial goddess or something, so yeah, maybe not human.” Lance sighed despondently, burying his face in his hands. He lifted his head slightly, eyes peering over his fingertips up at Keith. “Apparently her friend is a florist and she’s not too fond of heathers.”

“I did warn you against them.”

“Your chart said it meant admiration! I do admire her immensely!”

“Dude, this chart has been in this shop longer than me I have no idea where it came from. Whoever made it didn't exactly MLA cite the sources.”

Lance narrowed his eyes, mouth forming a small pout. “Don't tell me I'm wrong, just comfort me and let me wallow.” He groaned, reassuming cradling his head in his palms.

“Should I comfort you or let you wallow? Which one it is?” Keith responded back dryly. Lance ignored it.

“Maybe I should just give her a rose. That's traditionally more romantic, right?”

“A red rose?” Keith questioned apprehensively.

“Yeah! Now _that’s_ a sexy flower.”

Keith shook his head in exasperation, although it lacked the bite that it once had a few weeks ago when Lance first disclosed his attraction to the flowers. “I still don’t get how you can call a flower _sexy_ with a straight face like that.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“That's the worst thing you’ve _ever_ said, hands down.” Keith deadpanned, earning himself a lopsided grin. “I think a red rose might be coming in a little too hot.”

“How so?”

“You haven't even talked to her since you handed that one bouquet to her, which you said was _from your mother_ , and you want to give her a symbol of-” Keith leaned over the counter where Lance was, brushing against him slightly to get to the flower chart he’d placed on the side. He’d had to move it to a more accessible place after Lance had asked for it nearly every other day. “-longing and devotion.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at Keith, opening his mouth to say something in protest before he sighed dramatically and flopped back down on the counter. He seemed to do this far too regularly for the comfort of Keith and his desktop stationary.

“You’re right.” He admitted begrudgingly. “Red roses are out. What other colours you got? Oh, what about blue?!” he suddenly shot up excitedly, looking expectantly at Keith. This was another thing Lance did all too often, jumping in and out of extreme emotions as if this rollercoaster was just his routine morning walk.

“Oh, uh, that’ll take a while to prepare. I haven’t dyed any of the roses recently.”

Lance was close enough on the counter for Keith to see the way in which his eyes widened slightly, his face always easily showcasing his emotions like an open book, his soft lips parted in a slight ‘o’.

“You have to _dye_ them blue?” Lance asked in surprise. “Blue roses don't just… grow? Like, no blue role GMOs?”

“Yeah. Blue isn’t that common in nature.”

“Gosh, _tell me about_ _it,_ ” Lance sighed blissfully, resting his chin on an elbow and looking up at Keith through his eyelashes. “I watched the Ted-Ed video, isn't physics beautiful? Like, _what_ would we do without her?”

“The world would be anarchy.” Keith mused, turning back to the case on show he was arranging. “Without physical laws? Chaos.”

Lance's eyes widened, a grin spreading out across his face.

“Holy shit, you’re a total geek too!” he laughed, causing Keith to look up exasperatedly at the other boy. “You like physics, memes, _Harry Potter_ , maybe I should be giving this bouquet to you instead.” He teased.

Keith recognised it as a joke, but for some reason he felt frozen, trapped under the other boy’s joyful gaze. However, it was like suddenly a light went off somewhere as Lance’s smile dropped.

“Would I have a chance either way?” He teased, seemingly to himself as his eyes were glued to a space in front of him. He was still smiling, but  something about it was bittersweet, as if he’d just eaten something sour and was inwardly wincing at the taste. “Maybe Pidge is right and I don't have a chance.” He mumbled, still staring intensely at the air in front of him.

Keith kept staring as Lance’s smile began to slowly drop more and more. He was, for the most part, still acting in his typical mock dramaticism, but Keith could detect the subtle shift in the undertone of his words, less teasing and more genuine uncertainty. He frowned slightly.

“Maybe I should just get the yellow tulips." 

Keith looked over at the chart in curiosity, face immediately warping to concern as he read the words. _Hopeless love._ Lance had shown many often fluctuating sides of himself in the short time Keith had known him, but this insecure, almost _doubtful_ side of him was a new one.

“Well, they are still pretty.” He offered, resulting in a loud moan from Lance as he lay back further on the counter. “You could add some white tulips as well. Maybe some heathers? For florets?”

Lance squinted his eyes as he tried to read the chart as well. “One-sided love and… _common??_? Are you mocking me?”

“No!” Keith quickly said, thought Lance still looked at him unconvinced. “Heather is typically associated with admiration. It's supposed to bring good luck.”

“I could use some good luck.” Lance said softly to himself after a while, his words low and mumbled. “I don't know why I let myself get caught up with these things, like, who am I kidding? She's so amazing and I'm just stupid and awkward and hopeless.”

Keith didn't know how to react. He felt _bad_ for Lance, sure, but that didn't mean he was going to do anything about it. Not that he knew what he _could_ do anyways. He was a florist, not a therapist or even a _bartender_. He couldn't handle his own problems let alone others. He wasn't even sure if he was supposed to hear that part, as Lance was looking off at something else, eyes fixated on something that Keith couldn't see. He probably didn't even expect Keith to respond.

But then he looked at Lance again and felt something weird in his chest upon seeing how genuinely dejected the other boy was.

“Lance,” he sighed, walking closer over to the other boy. “This is just flower language, don’t beat yourself up over it.” There was no response from the other boy who was still sprawled across the counter of his shop. “You’re, uh, a great guy. Certainly not hopeless. And if she doesn't think so, then I’m sure eventually you’ll find someone who will.” Keith finished with a wince -- he wasn't very good at comforting, for a large part because he’d never had anyone to comfort. Pidge had never been the type to offload emotionally on Keith, and Shiro tended to be the one to comfort him. He didn't quite know how to respond to other people in situations like this, especially to _Lance_ who had never been anything less than bright.  

Lance stood up sightly, propping himself on his elbows and narrowed his eyes at Keith, looking him up and down almost as if he were scanning for something. After a while he seemed to be satisfied with his search as his face then broke out into the _softest_ smile Keith had ever seen.

“Thank you.”

Keith didn't understand how it could feel like his heart had both stopped beating completely and accelerated at the same time.

“Well, since _your_ help was a total bust I’ll have to turn to my only friend. Hey Siri, what type of flower will get cute out of my league girl to date me?”

_“Here's what I found on the web for “what type of flour will set-”_ Keith closed his hands around Lance’s, snatching the phone out of his grasp and locking it.

“Let’s just look at the fucking chart again.” Keith grumbled.

Lance grinned back at him and took his outreached hand, pulling him over to the counter. Keith stared at his hand in Lance’s as he allowed the other boy to tug him over slightly, somewhat dumbfounded. If Lance noticed it he didn't say anything and instead his smile widened, eyes damn near _sparkling_. The brightness of his face, the way a few of his teeth creeped out in between his lips as he brandished his signature lopsided grin sent an unwelcome heat to crawl up Keith’s neck.

**Author's Note:**

> there will be three parts bc i wrote this as a one-shot originally but 30k words is so HARD to edit and format properly and i'm lazy lol. the other parts have been mostly written so fear not! this will not be abandoned (probably)!!!!!!
> 
> pls feel free to comment ur thoughts below, or message me @starwar on tumblr or @booseungkwn on twitter tx 
> 
> like comment and subscribe xooxox
> 
>  
> 
> also, from saima:  
> saima: I just realised this isn’t a fic where keith and lance’s relationship is driven by the device of flowers, but actually the device of mULLETS


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